Strand of the Ancients
by Amavi L. Michael
Summary: First-person POV. Round one- Complete Round two- In progress I do not own Warcraft. Please RR
1. Round One

"They're coming from the northwest, sir!"

Horns blew around me as I waited for orders from the General. His brutish form was pouring over maps scattered across a rapidly erected table. Part of me wanted to ask the Orc if he needed help reading the bloody maps, but I held my tongue. I've learned his kind are the best to follow in a battle, even if they are painfully slow. His eyes kept flicking up to the newer addition of our small force. She was, like me, an elf and obviously a ditzy one; she was wearing thick black and green robes in a hot terrain, how ridiculous. Green was so not in this season. The little elf just leaned back against the columns and did her nails; bright pink which clashed with the green and black horribly.

"Sir, seriously, you should give out orders soon. I'd offer my hand at the turrets, since I'm more than likely the only one with a graceful hand who is strong enough to work them." I charitably suggested, being the gentleman I am. The turrets were amazing pieces of machinery; heavy, accurate, and most importantly powerful. My need for power came alive when I sat upon the guns, filling my entire being with pure pleasure and sating my lust. I didn't even need a woman to give me pleasure so long as I had that blissful gun between my legs. Moving off as if I had already been giving the order (the Orc wouldn't be as dense as to not put me on them, right?) I gave a short salute and turned, only to find his heavy hand on my shoulder and sticking my face into a map.

"You hurt tanks here… on foot." His order fell flatly onto my magnificent ears. I had heard him incorrectly, surely.

"Come again? Who will mind the turrets?" I allowed him to clear up his mistake by acting as if I didn't understand.

"She minds turrets. You hurt tanks here and here." He nodded to the she-elf then marked the maps for me to guide where I'd be 'hurting' the tanks.

Shock engulfed me. This little she-elf didn't look like she was strong enough to even walk in her heavy robes nonetheless be able to control a gun weighing a few tons. Her hands were delicately wrapped in cloth as if they would get hurt by any little thing and needed lots of padding to escape bruising. My eyes flicked towards her, the red on my cheeks burning freely as my anger mounted. The little bitch's response was a shrug then turned to walk off; she paused only to grab the bombs she'd be gunning towards the Alliance. A smirk curled my lips as the delicious thought of her falling from the weight entertained my mind. I watched, ignoring my orders so I could see the magnificent moment of her failure; only to be stunned at her smooth motions of picking up four packs (two in each hand where as I only carry one in each) and shouldering them with ease. Wait. What? I blinked a few times, this obviously was not possible. What kind of nail polish was she using?!

Being pushed forward, my staff put into my hands, was the only thing waking me from the daze she put me in. Growling, I shrugged and trudged forward towards the front line, I bet she doesn't even know how to work the guns. They'll be begging me to work them later, I am sure. Dusting my wonderful black curls out of my face, I hopped over the gate with grace to land where the Alliance ships were pulling up. Looking back towards our turrets, I only saw the she-elf sitting against the wall, slim blood thistle was wrapped between her lips; the smoke curling up and then sparking to nothing. My stomach knotted, she was going to try to man her gun while under the effects of the thistle? I should give her a blast of arcane to the face… No. Wait. I should do nothing. That harlot just signed her way out of the force… leaving me to be the hero at those wonderful turrets. Perfect.

Horns blew, causing my eyes to shift to the boats pulling in to the docks; my time to shine. A round-eyed gnome poked her head out from the side of the boat and rushed down the plank. Fluttering my eyes closed, I allowed my arcane power to crackle around my body; my mind dropped into that state of perfection it loved. The threads of my very soul vibrated with the power I was about to channel through my body. And then I reached out for the ley-lines; the perfect connection. My eyes opened, capturing the gnome right before she slipped into the shadows. And then my magic was all I could see. The colors were oh so wonderful in this light- the colors of her small body being penetrated with raw power, her leathers curling into shock and her body writhing in pain for a moment. I watched for a few seconds before ending her life, my eyes already looking for my next target.

He was a buggy eyed human, his body shivering under his robes as he gazed upon his fallen comrade. The staff he clutched at shook for a moment as it hummed with power, placing a translucent bubble around him. He weakly gave a smirk my way and then took a step back, seeing if anyone would come to his rescue. Licking my lips, I allowed my essence to reach out to the power of the ley-lines, the power to infusing my body with raw arcane. The human's eyes bulged and shifted off of me and to the sky over my shoulder- more than likely praying to the 'Light.' Oh, I'll show him Li…

A bomb went off right before me, landing on the human and causing intense damage to the boat. Alliance filth swarmed to the top finally, yelling to get the demolishers up and off the craft. Time slowed around me as I watched them run by me, not even taking notice of the essence of danger and pain personified as a perfectly handsome male elf. I was shoved out of my shock by a dwarf woman ramming into my side and forcing me off the dock. I landed in the water with a splash, the color of my robes better not run toge…

Another bomb went off, this time in the middle of the ship where the large tanks were being pulled onto shore. The explosive took out a few Alliance, destroyed one tank, and severely crippled another. It wouldn't be able to be moved until an engineer could fix the engine. A swarm of gnomes and dwarves rushed to the demolisher, the voices coming out quickly in their own tongue. Behind me, a group of humans worked to get everyone else off the ship, until a wail was heard above all the noise. Another bomb crashed into the group, effectively wiping the rest of the group other than the engineers.

Growling, I pulled myself to the ship, blinking out of the water and amidst the small humanoids. Flicking my hair out of my eyes, I enjoyed the rush of fear settling into the very air of what remained of the ship. With a small snap of my fingers, I froze those left in place and charged up my arcane, letting it build inside my core and then let go. An explosion erupted around me, the pure power overloading the systems of the engineers. The ice was a nice effect, none could move to writhe in pain as I let the rogue do. Pausing for a few moments, I looked down at my ruined robes and dusted them off. A shame the colors ran, they looked so good with my eyes. Looking up to see the ice beginning to melt under the hot sun, I allowed a smaller blast rip through me, killing all beings left on the ship other than myself. My eyes settled on a large stack of explosives I assumed they were going to try and use to gain entrance into the keep. With a small flare, I set one of the boxes on fire and blinked from the ship.

Back on the shore, my eyes drifted back to the turrets, locking with the she-elf's own eyes. Seeing our job was finished, she simply powered down the gun and walked off, blood thistle wrap back between her lips and a curl of smoke following in her trail.

Bitch.


	2. Intermission

Rain dripped from the sky, the drops screaming as they sharply hit the land. I laid upon my cot, gazing up at the sheer fabric above me, the drops hitting a shimmery layer an inch above the material and rolling gracefully to the ground. The noise was so peaceful, or would be, should the few other females in the force learn to listen instead of yap their jaws. Why the need to talk is so common amongst the civilized humanoids, I'll never know; I've learned that words, in general, are mostly useless. Thankfully, I trained my ears long ago to block out annoying sounds- such as the buzz of conversation flying around my head. The rain was more important, couldn't they see that? Rain means there will be blind spots on our next mission. The ground here is hot; hot land mixed with cool rain means fog or mist. The Alliance already sent out one team to try and capture our valuables- if they were smart, they'd send a small team of stealthy engineers. We might have been able to fend off a large group in broad daylight, but would we be able to if-

A tap on my head pulled me from my thoughts, making me shift my eyes back to see a female orc point outside.

"Elf here, Songheart."

Wow, really? I couldn't have figured there was someone here for me by you tapping on my shoulder and then pointing to the door. Thank you for the update. I rolled onto my side and sat up, gazing at the door and checking the figure through the thin sheet of our tent. The elf with a near love of hearing himself talk was the one who stood outside in the rain. Arching a brow, I got up, wrapped myself in a robe, and opened the flap- not moving out into the rain, nor asking him in. I waited to hear what the elf had to say.

And waited. His deep green eyes gazed at me, the flame of anger being guttered furiously with confusion. Even for a male elf, he was very… the only word I could honestly describe him as would be pretty. Dainty, even. But obviously aggressive and controlling. He twitched a little to gain his composure and finally spoke.

"Our commander gave us praise for earlier today. You did… well."

I did what I was trained to do, nothing more. He stood there, rain dropping down on him, causing invisible weights to weigh down the curls of his hair, making them merely soft waves. Dark streaks were beginning to run down to his cheekbones, a sign that he painted around his eyes to make the emerald green show more. In all, he looked ridiculous as he tried to keep a tight grip on his vanity while still trying to prove his superiority to me. I stood, waiting for him to finish and taking nothing from his small compliment. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, waiting for the words of acceptance which would never come. Eventually, he got the point and continued on.

"We have reports that the force we met with today was after what we are protecting because it is the second half of a puzzle. Once this report was received, it was understood that we should get their 'piece' before they try again to gain ours. We are to report to the general for more information, but come lightly packed and prepared to move out." He paused for a moment and licked his lips, the tips curling into a smirk. "It will just be you and I."

If he expected me to give him some type of understanding, it wasn't his to receive. I promptly closed the flap, turned, and moved to my cot. Small mission: which means we will be moving stealthily, yet quickly. Boots are first on the list to pack, lightweight, but durable. I'll have to see if I can get any. If not, lightweight is more important than anything- softer the boots are, the more silently you can move. Robes will be out of the question. A vest would be easier to move in, as well as tight cut pants. I sat there, going through my trunk as I sifted through clothing, trying to pick out the most practical cloth I could. Around me, the females had stopped their chatter and stared at me- a few with their mouth agape. Perhaps they expected me to fling myself into the arms of the vain little peacock who I would be working with? They were in for a surprise, if that's what they expected.

I was ready within a half hour, my bag light, but full of things I could need though this trip. As I jogged towards the General's tent, I forced my body to calm down- there was no need to think too far ahead, for I didn't know the full assignment. My body picked up its speed, relaxing and shaking out any beginnings of knots in my back and stomach- I loved to run. There is something freeing, empowering, when a body runs. The way your muscles flex and work together as they were always meant to work makes the body unwind, go into autopilot. Colors blur, if you can get to the right speed, and your eyes play tricks on your mind, bringing you to this comfortable happy place in the pit of your soul. I wished I could go there again soon.

Slowing as I neared the tent, the male elf had seemed to have dried and braided his hair with beads to keep it out of his face. His paint was cleaned up and reapplied around his eyes. I sighed at his long robes- they'd only slow us down. The General was grunting to a Forsaken, the bony humanoid clutching a pen with his hand and hastily writing out what looked like a map.

"You took long enough, Songheart." The elf drawled out in a derogatory tone, a smirk curling his lips as he looked my way. Ignoring him, I locked my eyes on the table, slowly scanning the maps being sketched out. I did not know the territory of which the map was of; at least, there were no landmarks I could place to my internal map. Watching the Forsaken closely, I tried to memorize the strokes of his hand, wishing to have less of a need to consult the map later.

The General looked up and waved me over before handing me a sealed scroll case and turning back to watch the progression of the maps final additions. I had grown fond of the orc warrior, enjoying his understanding of how words really were obsolete. Breaking the seal, I scanned through my official orders to escort Relnor Len'thas into Alliance territory with my various expertises: explosives, usage of military weaponry, stealth, tracking, blah blah, blah blah- I skipped the list and moved to the next informative section of the orders. I was to protect my escort, help him gather items of importance which he knows the whereabouts of, then escort him back. Failure, death, would lead to my rank being stripped and my titl-

I nodded and tucked the scroll back into its case, ringing it into its new permanent spot in my belt. Turning to watch the male elf, Relnor, I noted him reading his own set or orders and smirking. He was more than likely re-reading his list of accomplishments and skills.

A hand bony hand grabbed my wrist and put a rolled up map in my hand, the Forsaken gazing into my face as he pulled me close. Leaning in, he whispered one word, his voice laced with ice and giving off a mild smell: "Go."


End file.
